


Round and About

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Adam Adamant Lives!, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7532617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georgie shook her head. "I know what you're thinking. You think this is some sort of evil trap. Well, it isn't. It's just a nightclub."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round and About

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a crossover conversations meme: _Give me two characters from different fandoms you know I'm familiar with, and I'll give you a dialogue happening between the two of them. Without justifying how the crossover would work, how their worlds clashed or how they could even meet each other. Just a silly crossover conversation with no backstory, for fun._
> 
> [Liadt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/liadt) prompted for Adam Adamant meeting the Third Doctor.

"It reminds me a little of a theatre in the round," Adam Adamant remarked, looking around the interior of the Gyratory, London's newest nightclub. It was a large, circular room, windowless and artificially lit, with a podium in the centre for those providing the music. 

"They say when they're playing the whole room revolves," Georgina Jones enthused. "Isn't it totally fab and groovy?" 

Adam raised an eyebrow. "I see no essential differences from any of the other discotheques I have been obliged to visit in your company." 

"How can you say that? Those all had really old gear! This stuff's so new it's probably not even on sale yet!" Georgie sighed. "What wouldn't I give to get my hands on their mixing deck!" 

"New equipment?" Adam asked. "New and experimental?" 

Georgie shook her head. "I know what you're thinking. You think this is some sort of evil trap. Well, it isn't. It's just a nightclub." She gestured at the milling crowds of young people. "Look, they know there's nothing to worry about." 

"As does each innocent victim of every foul conspiracy," Adam replied, but his attention seemed to have been distracted. A tall, grey-haired man in a red velvet jacket and purple cape was making his way through the crowd, a certain urgency in his posture. "Do you recognise that man, Miss Jones? He seems out of place here." 

Georgie shook her head. "Never seen him before. Maybe he's the owner." 

"Possibly, but I—" 

Before Adam could continue, the room shook gently and began, as promised, to revolve. Multicoloured lights roved over the crowd, and a tune blared out of the sound system about which, in Adam's opinion, the least said, the better. Georgie, already moving in a way that she presumably considered to be dancing, was making some triumphant proclamation, but her voice was inaudible in the din. She gestured to Adam to join her, but he shook his head, touched the brim of his hat, and slipped away into the crowd. 

He reached the entrance doorway just behind the tall, grey-haired man. The latter appeared to be engaged in a heated debate with two burly members of the club's staff. As Adam approached, one of the doormen, who had the beefy look of a prizefighter, suddenly swung his fist at the stranger. The latter nimbly dodged, and with a cry of 'Hai!' sent him staggering. As the other doorman launched himself at the stranger, Adam thrust his stick between the thug's legs, causing him to collapse onto his fallen colleague. 

Then, Adam and the stranger were through the door and in the short, psychedelically-painted corridor that led to the outside world. The stranger turned back, closed the door, and pointed a slender silver rod at it. It locked with a click. 

"Thank you for that timely intervention," he said, turning to Adam. 

Adam bowed. "The pleasure was mine, sir." 

"Yes, I didn't realise until almost too late just what the Chameleons' plan was this time. I was very nearly trapped myself." 

"Trapped?" Adam repeated. "You are also of the opinion, then, that this place is the lair of some fiendish villain who lures unsuspecting young people to their doom." 

The man nodded. "More or less. Though I don't think 'lair' is quite the right word to use." 

Before he could go into more detail, there was a crash at the door behind them. The doormen had apparently recovered sufficiently to try and open the door. That having proved impossible, they were attempting to break through it, but it seemed to be resisting their efforts handily. 

"Come along," the stranger said. "We can't stand around here talking." 

"We cannot leave!" Adam protested. "That would leave every young person in this building at the mercy of these vile... Chameleons, I believe you called them. A criminal gang?" 

"We certainly can't leave. Apart from anything else, our altitude is currently..." He paused briefly in thought. "About ten thousand feet by now, I should say." 

"This building is a disguised aircraft?" Adam rested his hand on the wall. "I can feel a vibration, but I put that down to the mechanism of their carousel." 

"That'll be why the Chameleons did it. With the carousel revolving, nobody would notice the acceleration from lift-off." He was proceeding down the hall, aiming his device systematically at each section of the wall. "It would be best if we get to the control room before they miniaturise everybody." With a smooth hiss, a panel slid aside, revealing a cylindrical chamber with barely room for one person, let alone two. "The process is reversible, but it takes time." 

"And this, I presume, is a lift that will take us to the control room." 

"Most likely, yes." 

Adam drew his swordstick. "Then I shall go first." 

"My dear fellow, you haven't got the faintest idea what you'll find there." 

"And you have?" 

"I've dealt with the Chameleons before. Hopefully I'll be able to negotiate with them." 

Adam scowled. "Negotiate? When they have proved their untrustworthiness by commencing a sinister design against Miss Jones and dozens of others?" 

"That's precisely why we need to negotiate." 

"Very well." Adam drew himself up. "Nevertheless, I shall lead the way, Mr..." 

"Doctor." 

"After all, I still have the weapon." 

"My dear chap, haven't I just told you that we don't want to provoke them? Bring your swordstick by all means, but there's no point in waving it about in front of them." As Adam reluctantly sheathed his blade, the Doctor looked thoughtfully into midair. "Of course, it's as well to be prepared in case they do turn difficult. Don't underestimate the Chameleons. They'll probably look human — like those oafs on the door — but they're considerably stronger. If you see one pointing something like a pen at you, dodge: it's a weapon. And if they are mimicking humans, they'll have an armband on their upper arm. In the last resort, destroy that and you'll kill them. Any questions?" 

"Many, Doctor, but I fear they shall have to wait." 

He stepped into the lift. 

⁂

When Adam had first seen the Gyratory perched atop a two-storey building in Chelsea, he had thought it a piece of architectural flim-flam quite in keeping with the spirit of the times. Georgie's enthralled "Oh, wow! It looks just like a flying saucer!" had reinforced his view: if something appealed to Miss Jones's taste, it was without doubt representative of the era's worst excesses. 

Now, though, it was all too obvious that the Gyratory had not merely resembled a flying saucer — it had been one, hidden in plain sight. Sitting at a slight angle on the beach, with the rising tide lapping around it, it looked far more incongruous than it ever had at Chelsea. 

"Do you know where we are?" Adam asked, watching as the last group of clubgoers, shepherded by Georgie, waded to dry land. 

The Doctor shook his head. "I sent Jo to find out. Thank you for your assistance in the control room, by the way. It can't have been easy for you." 

"I prefer not to use extreme measures against young women — or those who appear to be young women. But given the wretch was about to shoot you in the back, my choice was quite a simple one." 

"Yes." The Doctor rubbed his neck. "Not all choices are, I find. Hello, here's Jo back already." 

"Guess what?" Jo announced breathlessly, as she hurried up. "We've landed in _Cromer!_ Really! The Brigadier's never going to let you hear the end of this, is he?"


End file.
